


Beautiful

by swanqueenfic13



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5544176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanqueenfic13/pseuds/swanqueenfic13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“something about Cora seeing Regina kissing a boy and punishing her with a haircut / shave for it.” ~~RapunzelLover</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RapunzelLover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RapunzelLover/gifts).



> Had a lot of fun experimenting with a different point of view! Let me know what you think!

You met him when he came to deliver the weekly delivery of flour.

He was the miller’s boy, a year older than you were. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and his muscles were clear, even through his jacket. His clothes were tattered, or course, and he always tracked straw into the kitchen. Somehow, your mother never seemed to notice. But you noticed everything he did. You were twelve at the time, just starting to notice the boys in the castle. But most of them were men, knights in the army, guards, or servants. He was the first boy your own age.

You had been in the kitchen when you first saw him. Your nanny had been fired two years ago when mother had insisted you were old enough to be trained like a lady. She felt you were destined for greatness, and had no need to learn how to cook. But you like the smells of the kitchen. So, whenever your mother is gone, or busy, you snuck down there to learn some of the cook’s best dishes. She loved the twist you put on her apple tarts.

He smiled when he saw you. Tipped his hat, and said hello. You were covered in flour, and he asked if this is why you ordered so much flour. You had never laughed so hard before. The second time he saw you, he was just leaving. You were walking around the grounds, looking for flowers to give the cook for her birthday. He stopped to help you, even though he needed to complete more deliveries. Before he left, he called you beautiful.

You rolled that word around in your mind for the entire month. You didn’t see him in all that time because mother was watching you more closely to make sure you were completing your lessons. The entire time, you thought about that word.  _ Beautiful _ . No one had ever called you beautiful before. You liked it.

The next time he saw you, he smiled again, said he’d missed you. You walk him back to his cart once he’s delivered the flour. He touches your cheek, your chin, looks deep into your eyes, and caresses your hair. He calls you beautiful again, and kisses your cheek before he leaves. You spend the entire week touching the spot where his lips met your flesh, wondering if you were imagining things. No one had ever called you beautiful before. No one had ever kissed you before. 

The next time you saw him was the last. He came early, and when you went to walk him back to his cart, he pulled you into the shade of the apple tree. He called you beautiful, wrapped his hands in your hair and kisses your mouth. You don’t know how to do it, but he takes the lead, exploring your mouth. He repeats the word a few times, kissing his way down your neckline, his hands wrapped in your hair. He pulls away, leaving you breathless. He strokes your hair, calls it the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He inhales its scent, and goes back to kissing you.

Suddenly, he is pulled away from you, and you gasp in surprise. You look to see mother gripping his collar, her face purple in her anger. She barks at you to leave, and you do, too afraid to argue. You never see him again. 

She comes to your room to find you crying, stroking your hair, still feeling the tingle on your lips. She calls you a whore, an ugly slut. Angry, and defiant, you tell her he called you beautiful. He touched your hair and made you feel beautiful. She smiles at you, and your blood runs cold. “He made you feel beautiful?” she asks, almost teasingly. You nod. “Your hair was the only beautiful thing about you,” she sighs. “Emphasis on  _ was _ .” And with that, she waves her hand. You turn to your mirror to see the magic has chopped off all of your hair. You touch the short, prickly ends, tears springing to your eyes. “See if anyone finds you beautiful now,” she says, leaving you alone.

You stopped going down to the kitchen. You didn’t want to chance him seeing you like this. You hide in your room, break all of the mirrors. You are too ugly to be seen. You take meals in your room, and refuse to leave for a month. Then, mother comes back insists you attend a ball with her. She fixes your hair so as not to embarrass her. It looks wonderful, and braided and styled. But you can never look at yourself the same way again. You can never be beautiful again.


End file.
